


Adapt/adopt

by WahlBuilder



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Hospitalization, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 05:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: In case of emergency, Viktor uses one of the many personas he's developed. Sometimes his legend includes Jeffrey. And when Viktor gets seriously injured, Jeff has to check on him using one of those personas.





	Adapt/adopt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haaska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haaska/gifts).



> That One fluffy-funny idea from our musings on the Noir AU with Haaska <3

Jeff was nervous. Even though they’d gone over such scenarios many times and he had all the papers, it was the first time he’d put it to practice.

He hoped his nervousness would be attributed to worry.

He smiled and produced his fake papers at the reception and the administrator smiled in turn sympathetically and said, “Your father is one the way to recovery. Your other father has been with him all this time, too.”

 _Other_ father?

He stifled panic and realized he hadn’t taken his Colt (the instructions forbid it; he’d have to improvise if need be).

He staggered, following directions, through the corridors, wishing it had been Henry dealing with this. But Henry was dealing with everything else: namely, with making plausible non-explanations for the Director’s absence, sorting through incoming issues. Making sure the Bureau worked properly even without the Director.

While Jeff’s mission was to look after the Director himself.

Objective 1: locate him (the tip from the Vory made it easy).

Objective 2: get into the hospital posing as the Director’s son.

Objective 3: find the damn ward.

He got pointed to it several times (the Director would disapprove of him getting lost). The part of the hospital he had finally found himself in was… nice. Quiet.

When he rounded into the room, he wondered whether he’d walked into a dream. Or an ambush. Where he’d have to improvise a weapon.

The Director was asleep on the bed, with curtains lowered and a small lamp dim on the bedside table — and in a comfortable chair by the bed sat Anton Rogalyov.

Holding the Director’s hand.

It seemed it was the Russian who’d brought the Director to the hospital, the Russian who was paying for the best care. The Russian, who had somehow convinced the staff he was the Director’s husband and so had the right to be here.

Anton was looking at Jeff.

Jeff swallowed.

The Russian had the pinched expression of someone who’d been worried out of their mind and now that they had a quiet moment, their thoughts didn’t allow them to rest properly.

Anton brought Viktor’s hand into his lap, leaned to him. “Darling. Jeff is here.”

So, they had to play the worried family.

(Anton’s thumb brushed over the back of Viktor’s palm. It wasn’t _necessary_ for the sake of pretenses. And it looked like something Anton did without thinking, like something he’d done many times before.)

Viktor stirred when Jeff came close, and moved his hand, and Jeff, with his heart hammering and his mouth dry, took it and squeezed carefully. “Dad,” he managed. It came in a whisper.

Viktor’s head was bandaged, shadows under his eyes were terrible.

“Jeffrey. Are you all right?”

He had to listen closely to hear it, and it was so strange that Viktor would ask that while he was the one on the hospital bed.

“I’m fine, Dad. You should rest.”

(It rolled so easily off his tongue.)

Viktor closed his eyes, his hold on Jeff’s hand weak. “Yes. They told me so.”

“At least a month of nothing but rest, once he’s cleared,” Anton added.

Jeff sighed. They’d have to tie Viktor to the bed for that to work.

Judging by Anton’s crooked smile, Anton understood that well.

Viktor seemed to fall into slumber, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

And Jeff didn’t have the heart to take his hand away.

(He didn’t want to take it away.)

He pulled another chair close to the bed and sat down, feeling Anton’s gaze.

“We should make plans,” Jeff said, looking up. “How to help him rest. Pa,” he added, heat rising to his cheeks.

Anton smiled. “We should. Son.”

**Author's Note:**

> Then Anton's boys dropped by now and then and called Jeff "little brother" and he tried to not show how much it pleased him.


End file.
